


for good

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Multi, Sam-Centric, Sam/Kara-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: “I hurt you,” Sam says instead. Kara’s smile only grows.“You did,” she whispers, and the confirmation is another stab to Sam’s chest. There’s a hand on hers. When she looks down, it’s Kara’s, lacing their fingers together. “I did land a few good blows on you, though, so we’re even. Kind of.”Or the aftermath of Reign and how it affected Sam. Established!SuperReignCorp.





	for good

When Sam wakes up, it’s to dim green lighting that make her feel sick and restraints around her wrists and ankles. There’s an ache too, _everywhere,_ and as she blinks the weariness away from her eyes she realizes she’s in a room that is only of metal walls. Panic and fear surges through her. She tries to pull away and set herself free but she finds she is unable to move without her muscles screaming in pain.

“Help!” She cries out.

Tears build in the corner of her eyes. She can’t pull herself free, can’t hear anything, can’t see anything but a sickening _green._

She remembers what happened. It comes back to her, collapsing over her like dead weight that made her cry out again, hot tears burning her eyes and cheeks as her body sags against the cold metal she lays back onto—in defeat, in regret, in anger at herself.

She remembers Ruby. Lena. Kara.

Oh _god. Kara._

She screams her name. Screams their names, only for her voice to come back an empty echo.

A hissing noise echoes through the cell but Sam is too occupied with the onslaught of memories of her hurting everyone she loved, destroying the city she called home.

“M-mom?”

The voice breaks with tears. Sam drowns in the memory of that same voice, in the distance, while she was losing herself, and she feels a stab in her chest—she feels the pain in that voice, from her distant memory, feels the pain in it _now,_ and she tries so hard to focus herself in the moment so she could look at the source of the voice.

Ruby. She’s tear-stained, visibly shaking, as she stands by the doorway between a weary-looking Lena and an exhausted, bruised Kara.

Sam cries anew, tears clouding her vision, and she struggles against her restraints with a scream. She hurt them, with her own words, with her own hands—the people she loves, _supposed_ to love, and the pain she feels doubles, escalates, burns through her entire being and she wants to _die_ when she remembers the hurt in Ruby’s eyes, the fear in Lena’s.

The defeat in Kara’s eyes, flickering, before she sends her crashing to the ground.

There’s screaming in her head. She doesn’t know whose voice it is, but there’s screaming, screaming, _screaming,_ telling her she is evil and terrible and she has hurt those she loves and she deserves to- deserves to _perish._

Her hands are fists on her sides, the metal around her wrists and ankles burning against her skin. She wants them to crush her, wants the green sickening light to end her, end her, _end her._

“Sam?”

There’s a hand on her arm. She flinches, surrenders at the contact, as if all the strength and willpower she has disappeared with that single touch. “Are you- Is it you, now?”

It’s Lena, sounding so terrified and _lost_ that the urge to disappear increases a thousandfold. Another hand joins the one on her arm, and there’s another on her other side, and when she manages to open her eyes she sees Ruby and Lena on one side, Kara on the other.

She breaks, yet again.

“I’m—I’m so _sorry,_ ” Sam rasps, because it’s all she can say. It’s all she can do, after everything. She wants to disappear, to cease to exist, because this, _this_ body, this being she is, she— _it_ —hurt the ones she loves so dearly and she can never forgive herself.

“You’re back,” Ruby sobs, and there is a weight over her and arms and tears, and the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles lose their grip around her. The green light disappears and she doesn’t feel like she’s dying anymore, but she still feels like throwing up, still feels like she should—

“It’s been a few hours,” Kara croaks. Her voice is scratchy, broken like the rest of her it seems, but there’s a small smile on her face that feels comforting amidst the storm in her eyes. “We thought we—” She snaps her jaw shut, clenches. She looks away. “We’ve been trying to get you back.”

“I hurt you,” Sam says instead. Kara’s smile only grows. She looks back at her.

“You did,” she whispers, and the confirmation is another stab to Sam’s chest. There’s a hand on hers. When she looks down, it’s Kara’s, lacing their fingers together. “I did land a few good blows on you, though, so we’re even. Kind of.”

Sam barely hears her. She’s crying, still, memories of crushing her blonde lover behind her eyelids playing back over and over, the helpless voices of Ruby and Lena screaming for her to _come back, mom, please_ and _Sam, this isn’t you._

 _“I hurt you,”_ she rasps with a sob. The hand on hers tightens and she feels lips on her temple.

“That wasn’t you, Sam,” Lena says, voice certain and brave this time, somewhat. Sam shakes her head but the woman shushes her, runs her fingers through her hair as she weeps.

She cries, drowns in the memories of what she had done—a punishment, perhaps, but she knows another more fitting. She remembers, though vaguely, the way the words tasted on her tongue, how she had spat them as she committed Morgan Edge’s face to memory.

“Come back,love,” Lena whispers, a touch of fear in her words like she’s terrified Sam would fade again. She meets her gaze, bright and green and loving, and Sam feels like she doesn’t deserve the way she looks at her like she’s—

Like she’s _good._

Kara leans against her bed, pulls Sam’s hand on her lap. Her vision is still blurry but she can make out the purple and red bruises on Kara’s face. She’s still beautiful but so in pain and Sam can’t bear to look at her but she does, if only to punish herself.

“I could’ve killed you,” Sam sobs in realization.

Kara chuckles. “You _could’ve,_ yes. But you didn’t.” She pulls Sam’s hand to her lips, brushes them against her knuckles. “You’re the champion of Earth now, do you know that? If ever there’s another duel for Earth’s independence, you’ll have to fight on behalf of humankind.”

Lena laughs a little at that too, and Ruby—Ruby looks at her with such _pride,_ as if the thought of her mother fighting for Earth is a thing she could scream from the top of the world for.

“I don’t—” Sam closes her eyes, shakes her head. She doesn’t want to fight. Whatever happened to her, she doesn’t want a repeat of it, ever again. All she can think about is how she _hurt_ Kara, how she destroyed National City, how she put in peril thousands of people.

“You don’t have to,” Kara assures. Sam swallows thickly. There’s only silence between them for a moment, or two, or maybe it has been minutes, she doesn’t know, but Kara squeezes her hand again.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, before, but…” The blonde sighs. Sam sees Lena reach out for her, a hand on her shoulder, and Kara smiles. “Before, I was… There was this strain of kryptonite, a red one, that—” She shakes a shuddering breath and Sam, despite her own worries, notices the way a different kind of heartache manifest on her face. It’s one Sam feels. “I destroyed the city,” Kara continues in a whisper. “I- I hurt Alex. A lot of other people. I- I wanted to—” She pauses, shrugs, laughs hollowly. “I wanted people to worship me. I _made_ those who didn’t to, with a showcase of my power then, and I- I- But that _wasn’t_ me.” Kara meets Sam’s gaze. It’s defiant, confident, _powerful,_ everything the Girl of Steel is. “The same way the woman who hurt me _isn’t_ you, Sam. Do you understand?”

Sam wants to. She _wants_ to. But the memories of everything are fresh, so much so that she still feels the blood of Kara against her fists. She nods though and it’s a lie that Lena and Kara see through but they say nothing.

“But you and mom are good, aren’t you, mommy Kara?” Ruby says, her voice small, hopeful. The blonde turns to her.

“There’s darkness in all of us,” Kara says carefully, lips quirking up with the barest of smiles that lacked cheer. She glances over at Lena, at Sam, before fully meeting Ruby’s gaze. “Half the victory of being good, I suppose, is choosing to fight darkness every single time.”

The girl’s eyes water at that and she glances over to her mother. “And- and mom won’t—”

“I will _die_ first before I hurt you again like that again,” Sam whispers, and it’s the first time, after everything, that she feels sure. Her voice is broken, still, and she’s looking at anywhere except the three of them. There’s a hand on her shoulder, for a moment, before she’s being pulled into a hug that only felt of forgiveness and home.

“You’re okay, Sam,” Kara tells her. Sam doesn’t feel like it. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. She feels the way Kara winces with every breath and she hates herself for causing her pain like this. There’s that will to disappear again, to cease to exist, because she doesn’t deserve it, not after—

“You’re forgiven,” Kara whispers, and it breaks Sam all over again. Kara’s hold around her tightens minutely, then she feels another set of arms around her, then another. Ruby sniffles. There are lips on her forehead, her cheeks, and Lena murmurs _I’m so glad you’re okay_ even if Sam doesn’t feel like she’s okay, not yet, maybe not in a long time.

“I missed you, mom,” Ruby tells her with a kiss on her forehead.

“Rest, beloved,” Lena says, and Kara whispers _I love you_ in a language that’s both foreign and familiar and Sam breaks, all over again.

She’s not okay. Not yet. Maybe not in a long time. But she’s forgiven, and it’s a start.

//

She has nightmares of everything, even weeks after what happened. She wakes up with screams in the middle of the night, the feeling of blood in her hands, but Kara and Sam hold her, assure her _you’re fine, Sam_ and _you’re here, we’re here, we’re not going anywhere_ and though Sam breaks, she’s forgiven.

//

There’s darkness in her, she knows, power in her bones much like the Girl of Steel does, but she never uses it. She would never, she swears, not after what happened, many months back. She will die first before she hurts someone again.

//

Kara, _Supergirl,_ is taken. The DEO can’t find her for some fucking reason and they tell Sam and Lena that they’re on it, that she’s fine, but Sam doesn’t need assurances like that. She needs Kara home, with her and Lena and Ruby, and she would _die_ first before something happens to her.

“I’ll find her,” she tells Lena, promises her they’d be home for dinner, before she rips away all the repressed memories of her _power_ and flies off. It’s difficult to gain control, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take Kara home.

The sun is setting over their house—a five-bedroom Victorian house that reminded Kara of Midvale, Sam of the suburbs she grew up in—when Sam lands over at the backyard. Now that she takes notice, she hears the quick footsteps from inside. Ruby’s and Lena’s—Alex’s, too. She helps Kara to her feet. The heroine is weakened but she’s fine. Sam wanted to make sure those who hurt her aren’t, but Kara stopped her, reminded her that she doesn’t have to fall into this darkness, and Sam—Sam fights it, for Kara, for Lena and Ruby and the goodness in her own heart.

She threatened them to stay away from her family, or else, before she flew off with Kara in her arms.

“Yellow sun lamps on in the rec room, Lee,” Sam tells them as soon as they’re in. “You okay, Kar?” She murmurs as she puts the blonde down on the day bed. Kara yawns and nods, smiles up at Sam.

“You came for me,” she whispers. “You used your powers.”

Sam sighs as she runs her fingers through honey hair, pushes it back to look at blue eyes. “I did.”

Lena is with them in a moment, sitting beside Kara on the bed. Alex stands to the side.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Kara reminds her.

Sam chuckles and shakes her head. “It’s not an achievement, Kara,” she whispers.

The blonde smiles and shakes her head. “Will you believe us now, when we say you are _good?”_

Sam takes a shuddering breath, closes her eyes. She hears their heartbeats, feels their warmth, and though there is the distant memory of blood on her fingertips and screams in her ears, she forces them aside. Half the battle is choosing to be good, Kara says.

“Maybe.”

It’s a start.


End file.
